Tuesday, 13 January 2015

*All names have been changed and any connection made is purely coincidental*

Arranged to meet Harvey in a pub in the town centre. I rushed because I thought that I was going to be late. No need to worry however as he was 15 minutes late but at least he had the decency to text me to let me know of his tardiness. I ventured inside the pub (because it was bloody freezing) alone and windswept and looking like I had been dragged through a hedge backwards and ordered myself a Pinot. I briefly considered getting him a pint but then didn't bother - good job because he was enduring Dry January. I sipped my glass of wine before accidentally knocking it over when he told me, within the first 10 minutes, that his last date had dragged him to a swinger’s club and stripped down to her bra and pants! Was he hoping that I would do this too?

He clearly was. "I will leave you with that thought," he said as he scooted off to the bar to replace my wine. He returned with a small glass and I thought I can't date a man who thinks it is acceptable to buy me a tiny alcoholic beverage. And then he carried on. He was getting aroused (excited not hard....actually....) He spoke of deviant ways and I squirmed and not in a good way. He was clearly testing the water.

And then the cheeky twat reached over and grabbed my bum!

After my immediate dissociation passed (coping mechanism) I bicep punched him and thought never again. This bloke did not need Dutch courage and I dread to think how forward he would have been had I bought him that pint. Would he have tried to mount me?

Not only had this guy, not so subtly, suggested that I shimmy through that swinging door a few streets down (where women were honoured with free entry but men had to pay £25) but he had also touched an intimate part of me and I don’t mean my heart.

What scared me more than any of his aberrant ways though was when I punched him and thought, yum, yum, what lovely, firm muscles you have. At this point I realised that I am still not ready to date. My future choice of man can in no way be influenced by the old me (the part that I thought I had banished) and all that she would have deemed acceptable, fooling herself into believing that it was endearment.

Bottom line the jerk felt me up. He was a frotteur and that is actually illegal. I could go as far to say that it was sexual abuse, I certainly didn't consent to having my bottom groped but I won’t because he could have me for assault and I will probably get all kinds of death threats via trolls and pissed off men thinking I am a radical feminist.

So needless to say this date is definitely going down as a loss and puts my score at -1. Great start!

Downside: My love for this charming City has been ruined with the thoughts of every other door being a swinging one.

Upside: If I change my mind on the above I now have the address.

*FYI I am in no way suggesting that I am all that and were he to write about me he would no doubt have written how frigid and stuck up I am and how after he asked me my opinion of sex clubs I looked at him like he had shit on my great grandmother and had sat with my arms tightly hugging myself for the duration (when I clearly should have been protecting my behind.) However he did text me afterwards asking;

‘What now?’

‘What do you want?’

And as if the caressing cruiser had not left enough of a sleazy impression.